Chapter 10: Prince of Never: Chapter 9

Lara

I had no idea gardening was a form of torture. The backbreaking labor of digging and weeding is the perfect punishment for a city girl like me, whose main experience with dirt before landing in this strange place had been scrubbing it off the potatoes at work.

After languishing in a sparsely furnished servant’s cell for three days, wondering if the fae would leave me there to rot, yesterday at dawn, I was led outside to toil in the garden until dusk. When I returned to my room, I was served a bowl of stew by a wide-eyed maid who spoke little and stared a lot. Muscles I didn’t even know I owned burned and ached, but the food tasted good and, surprisingly, I was still alive. Things could have been a lot worse.

Last night, when I finished eating, I soothed myself with a song, rocking on my cot while wrapped in colorful blankets as I wiped away tears of homesickness and waited, like I had every night since arriving, to be summoned by the queen and sentenced to an even harsher fate than digging and weeding.

Like death, for example.

I figured at least I’d be executed with a full belly. In my desolate state, that was the only positive thing I could think of. But I waited and waited, and the summons never came.

Eventually, I fell into a restless sleep and dreamed the dream that has always plagued me: I’m running through a forest, chased by a man who is tall, blond, and terrifyingly relentless. As usual, I couldn’t see his face, but for the first time, I knew who he was. The huntsman. Ever.

I tossed and turned for hours, and when I’d finally given up on it ever happening—the sun rose.

This morning, I woke to a gray sky blinking at me through a barred, high window, a jug of water and a bowl of porridge set on a small table fashioned from a block of wood, next to the bed.

Before I even finished breakfast, Magret, the castle’s head gardener, came to lead me along cobblestone alleyways, under archways, bridges, and turrets to fenced-in gardens set upon the hills that abut the city’s rear walls.

So, now it’s my fifth day at Talamh Cúig, and here I am again on the rolling green slopes—a sweet-floral scent and iridescent-colored insects wafting around me in the mild breeze as I work. Not far down the hill, fae gardeners are busy picking fruit in an orchard, but I’ve been assigned to labor at Magret’s side. Possibly forever.

“I heard you singing last night,” she says in her quiet voice as we prune tomato plants together.

I didn’t realize she slept in a cell near mine. I hope she didn’t hear me crying.

“Hopefully, I didn’t keep you awake,” I say.

Instead of answering, Magret just smiles, which I think means I did disturb her sleep.

The faery’s appearance is an extraordinary sight, and one I’m still adjusting to. She’s dressed in the same earth-colored tunic and loose pants as me, but that’s where our similarities end.

Tall and fair with translucent, pale-colored eyes, she looks like a beautiful woodland sprite, delicate antlers curling from her forehead like velvety winter branches. And in her manner, she’s somehow both fierce and kind, her movements strong yet graceful, and I’m very happy she decided to speak to me yesterday.

Since I’ve made a friend, I don’t feel anywhere near as terrified as I did when I first arrived in the city—which I remind myself was only five days ago. And if Magret is an example of what the Court of Five fae are like, then there’s still hope for me yet. I can’t imagine her baying for blood and insisting I be slaughtered.

But then there’s Ever, and the queen, and the beady-eyed advisers to consider. They make me worry for my future. They make me dread.

“I didn’t realize humans could sound as you did last night,” Magret says. “It was soothing.”

“Oh! Thank you for the compliment.” At least I think it was a compliment.

Glancing up from the plants, I say, “And I had no idea tomato leaves smelled this way, so incredibly sweet. The scent should be bottled and made into perfume.”

“Yes, earth smells are wonderful.”

All manner of vegetables sprawl over neat rows—artichokes, pumpkins, beans, and lettuces—which, come to think of it, is more than a little strange. My boss, Max, is a stickler for market-fresh produce, and he sets the diner’s menu by the seasons, and what I see sprouting and fruiting around me shouldn’t be possible—I think they’re all spring vegetables. Magret says it’s autumn here, but the air feels like winter.

“How do tomatoes grow outside when the weather’s so chilly?” I ask.

“Because of earth magic, mine in particular. In our court, each of us is born with an elemental power. It’s how we keep our trees evergreen no matter the season. Some fae have stronger magic than others. But none so strong as our princes.”

I roll my eyes. Ever, again. Of all feasible things, why did he have to turn out to be a prince?

“Magret, I can’t believe I’m allowed to be here gardening with you. I mean, I thought I would have had my throat slit or be pierced full of arrows by now, and so far, the worst part of the punishment is my aching muscles and having to roll in cow crap all day long.”

Cocking my head, I listen for the bellows of farm animals and hear none. “Is it cow crap you use for fertilizer?”

Dumping stalks and leaves into a compost basket, she laughs. “It is from okapris, big lazy animals covered in stripes. If you like, we can visit their pastures after lunch. And please remember the most wonderful things grow from crap, as you call it. The tallest tree in the forest was once a tiny seed in soil. Don’t forget this, Lara, it is important.”

“Okay, I get that. But what I’d really like to know is why the queen was so lenient. Shouldn’t I be dead by now?”

“The queen is not quite as bad as she wishes people to believe and, although she treats them harshly, she loves the princes almost as much as she does the kingdom. Her heart is only encased in stone, not fashioned from it.”

“Ever gave me the impression all fae hated humans.”

Her brows rise. “Ever? I’m surprised you’re on familiar terms with our fierce prince. And he allows you to address him as such, does he?”

I laugh. “No, actually he doesn’t. To his face, I call him Never, and he’s not at all happy about it.”

“And yet here you are still alive. Incredible.” Her pale eyes stop glinting and turn hard. “The Black Blood prince is the one you should fear, Lara, not the queen. The poison makes him cold and cruel. He is capable of monstrous things.”

That damn poison again. Half of me wishes I’d never heard mention of it, and the other half, the stupid part, wants to hear all about it. Every. Tiny. Detail.

The idea of Ever possessed by it sends a shiver through my bones. To think I spent two days in the cruel prince’s arms while Jinn rocked us together as we traveled along… and I did my best to annoy him. What a fool I was—virtually taunting death himself.

As I pluck tiny lateral stems from a tomato bush, I wonder what Ever’s sweet-natured horse, Jinn, is up to. And fun-loving Balor, too. At first growl, the prince’s monster-hound seems terrifying, but he’s as cuddly as a golden retriever, and a good reminder that first impressions aren’t always correct.

But I don’t stop and wonder what Ever is doing. I don’t care. No. Not at all.

Magret drags a woven basket closer and begins filling it with bright-orange carrots. “It isn’t true that we despise all mortals. Another human came here in this queen’s lifetime, back when the princes were mere saplings. The woman showed us wondrous paintings on her technological device. And after the Merits stole her belongings, Queen Varenus allowed her to leave our lands. So you see, Lara, there is hope for you returning home yet. Do not worry.”

My pulse rushes through my ears, and my head spins. The woman she’s talking about is my mother, Ella. “Do you know how this lady got home? Do you have any idea where a portal back to my—”

“Your Highness,” says Magret, standing suddenly and dropping into a deep curtsy.

So, here it is then—the summons I’ve been waiting for. The one that will lead to torture and pain. To the end. My end.

I squint into the sun. From behind the clouds, it emits a blinding silvery glow. When my eyes adjust, Ever will, no doubt, be standing there sneering down, ready to drag me off to a gruesome death.

“Be at ease,” says a warm, deep voice.

It’s Raff who’s arrived to lead me away, not Ever. What a relief. Raff is kinder. Raff is nice.

I stumble onto my feet beside Magret, and she elbows me into a curtsy.

Raff laughs at my clumsy efforts. “Do you care to take a walk, Lara?”

“With you?” I ask, then turn to Magret with my mouth hanging open. “Will that be okay?”

“Yes,” she says, her eyes as wide as mine.

I guess in the Land of Five, gardeners don’t usually take strolls with princes. Or maybe gardeners do, just not prisoners. Or humans.

“That sounds great.” I have no idea what he means by take a walk, but it’s probably best to sound enthusiastic and not risk offending him.

“Let’s go,” he says, and strides down the hill away from the garden walls and the great castle looming beyond them.

I break into a jog to catch up.

With Spark bouncing on his shoulders, Raff strikes a strange but undoubtedly impressive figure. He wears dark leggings, knee-high black boots, a navy doublet embroidered with a blaze of red and orange flames, and a gold circlet on his forehead decorated with twists of metal shaped like flowers—holly and sunflowers—and amber stones.

“Your element is fire,” I say, panting hard as I reach his side, my head only coming to the middle of his chest.

Dark-honey hair lifts in the breeze as he beams a smile at me. “Yes, I am made of fire. You’d better try not to anger me because I’ve been known to set whole chambers ablaze, incinerating them to ash when in a temper.” He rolls his palm over, revealing tiny flames dancing in a spiral pattern.

“See? Dangerous,” he mocks, then gleefully blows out the flames like they’re birthday candles on a cake.

“I can’t imagine you turn lethal very often. You seem far too cheerful to be violent.”

His laugh is a warm rumble. “True. I much prefer fun over fear.”

Luckily for me.

A colorful meadow dips into a shallow valley before us. Trees spread out in the distance as they blanket the hillsides, their bright greens melting into a lush forest that sparkles with untold mysteries.

“How do you like Talamh Cúig so far?” Raff asks as Spark leaps into my arms, knocking me backward.

Laughing, I pet her soft, red fur while she chirps happily and twitches her white fox’s ears at me. “Well, your servants’ quarters aren’t much to speak of, but the outdoors are certainly stunning.”

I flick my thumb over my shoulder. “And I don’t like those creepy guys staring at us.” Behind us, tall sentries stand to attention along the top of the wall, guarding the rear entrance to the town. “Either this isn’t a very peaceful land or you’re all paranoid.”

“Elemental magic was once enough to keep unwanted visitors out, but the Merits’ mix of magic and technology has advanced greatly in recent years and can at times infiltrate our protection spells. We have a fragile truce with them, but they are not trustworthy. We are vulnerable and have had to adapt with the times.”

“Which means putting guards on the walls, so no one gets in or out of the city without them noticing.”

“Not quite true. Our High Mage’s rooms are situated against the north-west corner of the wall. If she decided to let someone pass through her abode, on the other side of it they would find a direct pathway leading into the very forest you see before you. It’s the only exit out of the city from which you can be guaranteed a secret departure.”

“And the mage, does he approve of humans?”

“She does. But her sisters are not as agreeable.”

Her sisters. Something about that niggles at the back of my brain.

“Do the sisters live with her?”

“No. They prefer to abide in their elements and reside in wilder places—the red-hot coals, the whispering trees, bubbling streams, and boggy marshes.”

He comes to a standstill, drops gracefully to the ground and stretches his long limbs in a relaxed pose. “Sit with me. The view here is most pleasing.”

I obey and perch cross-legged next to him. It’s disconcerting to be this close to the Prince of Fire. His eyes are hypnotic flame-colored orbs, dancing with mischief, framed by dark kohl and, bizarrely, no eyelashes.

I suck in a breath. “Your eyelashes—”

His brow furrows. “Oh, I’m always burning them off. It’s the flames I play with. I must look frightening to you.”

“No. I admit your eyes are a bit spooky, but they’re stunning. In a good way.”

His grin is infectious, even as his gaze skims my body in an overly curious manner.

“Don’t get any ideas, buddy. You’re a prince. You don’t want to be fraternizing with a prisoner. And instead of answering all my questions, shouldn’t you be marching me up to your queen right now, suspicious that I’m planning an escape? Especially since you’ve basically told me how to get out of here.”

“No. I’m rather interested to see what you’ll do next. And how my brother will respond.”

Ugh. Ever again.

Red poppies and bluebonnets dot the fields around us, spring flowers fired into blooming by earth magic.

“Why is the sun out? After the chill of the last few days, I’ve nearly forgotten what it feels like on the back of my head.”

“It shines because my brother has gone.”

Ever’s not here? “So, if the weather improves when he leaves, the whole city must look forward to his departures.”

His smile is grim. “Yes and no. Personally, I do not like it when he stays away long. Each time, he returns a colder version of himself. More distant.” A smirk pulling at his lips, his eyes run over me. “Except for perhaps his most recent hunting trip. This time, he’s returned quite enlivened.”

“Maybe my constant talking annoyed some life back into him. How old are you anyway? A thousand years or something crazy like that?”

“I am two years younger than Ever, so only twenty-two. Of course, fae years move a little slower and a little faster than your human years… but it equates to roughly that.”

“A little slower and a little faster? That makes no sense at all.”

Spark tugs my hair, her claws tangling in the long strands, and Raff detaches her and places her between his spread thighs.

Screeching, she smacks his face, then scrambles away on four legs, chasing an animal that looks like a miniature version of a rabbit, except it’s blue.

“That was unexpected,” I say. “What a little savage your pet is!”

“She takes offense easily.” Rubbing his cheek, Raff laughs as he watches her streak through the meadow, the tips of her ears bobbing up and down. “Time doesn’t need to make sense, Lara. It just is. You are in Faery now and should not expect your experiences to be wrapped neatly in logic.”

I don’t want to ask this next question, but it’s killing me not to know. “Is Ever hunting those dragon things again?”

“You mean the draygonets. No. This is quite a different mission. He’s returned to the eastern edges of the Lowlands, far from the banks of Fire River which you traveled along on your journey here.”

“Through Ithalah Forest again?”

“No, not as far as that.”

“And what’s he doing there?”

“Looking for a wife.”

“What?”

Raff throws me a rueful grin. “The wife-story is Ever’s. I shall let him tell it to you when he returns.”

“I doubt he will. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not his favorite person.” Don’t ask. Don’t ask. “When is… when is he back?”

“Tomorrow most likely. Bride or no.” Raff’s golden eyes sparkle with mischief, and I bite my lip hard to stop myself from asking what he’s thinking about.

The trees shimmer down the hillside like rolling waves of green silk, beckoning and enticing. I nod westward where they’re at their thickest and most compelling. “What’s down there?”

Mysterious things always snare my interest.

“That is the Emerald Forest, and beyond it spans the great Emerald Sea filled with terrible beings—water witches, merpeople, selkies, and a myriad of monsters of the deep. You must take extreme care if you ever wish to sail upon it.”

Fortunately, I don’t.

“And what’s in the forest? Any portals back to the human world?”

He laughs. “Perhaps. Anything is possible. The moss elves live in the Emerald Forest. Once, they dwelt in the valley, farming the rich soil with their weak earth magic. But now their cursed crops fail, and they must hide hungry in the caves. It is a sad existence.”

“Why do they have to hide?”

“They are smaller than you are and much weakened. The draygonets have hunted them to near extinction. Those who are left are mostly women and babes, sick or starving.”

“And are these moss elves dangerous?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why don’t you help them?”

“Hundreds of years ago, at the time of the first Black Blood prince, the Court of Five was in dire need of allies against the Merits, and the forest dwellers refused to swear fealty to us. Independence was precious to them above all else, and so now they have it. In abundance.”

“But that’s a terrible story. They’re dying out, and you guys are doing nothing to help them.”

“Not so. My brother kills the draygonets who feed off them. Sometimes my friends and I join the hunt, but Ever is the one who will not rest until the last flying bloodsucker has been exterminated.”

Is that because he enjoys the sport? Or, heaven forbid, does Ever actually care about the mothers and babies suffering in the caves?

“Raff, it sounds like no one feeds the moss elves.”

“Correct. No one does.”

That’s wrong. I can’t bear to think of them suffering.

In the distance, Spark suddenly pops out of the long grass, shaking her fists at us before barreling through the field and leaping onto Raff’s shoulders.

“Do the draygonets live in the forest, too?”

“No. Mostly they nest at Feather Isle past the eastern edges of the Lowlands.”

“What do the draygonets look like? Should I be afraid if I see one?”

“Are you planning on going hunting?”

“Not likely.”

“Good. In case you change your mind, allow me to describe them. They look like large fattened snakes with dragons’ heads. They have leathery wings, sharp fangs as long as my hand, and the wind whistles through their skulls because their brains take up so little space.”

“Would they attack me?”

“Perhaps. They are not much larger than Balor and—”

“They’re bigger than Balor? That’s large enough for me, thank you very much.”

“Yes, but do not fear. They seek less challenging prey than creatures who outweigh them. They only hunt periodically, and before Ever found you, he killed the final stragglers from their most recent raid. We shouldn’t see any draygonets over our lands for several days.”

“How do you kill them?”

“A broadhead arrow works quite well.”

“But that’s no help to me. I’ve never used a bow before.”

“Well, they don’t like fire, and sometimes noise can drive them away. It’s best not to run, though, since like most predators, they cannot resist a chase.”

My dream flashes through my mind, the huntsman chasing and chasing, and I study the forest, feeling Raff frown at my profile.

“I must admit,” he says finally. “Right at this moment, you remind me very much of my brother, overly concerned with those wretched creatures. Personally, I don’t understand the fascination.”

“And I don’t understand why you don’t help them.”

“It is forbidden. No Elemental is allowed to offer direct aid to them. To do so would risk immediate banishment from the kingdom.”

“But you’re a prince!”

“And you’ve met my mother.”

Yes, I have, and fortunately for me, I’m not an Elemental fae. As far as I know, I’m not forbidden to help them.

The way Raff’s casually dishing out information, it’s as if he hopes I’ll do something radical—make an escape bid, harass his brother. Anger the queen.

Well, I think the plan that’s currently forming in my mind might entertain him.

Giving him a sunny smile, I stand and brush dirt from my tunic. “Thank you, Raff, you’ve been very informative.”

Before he has the chance to ask what I mean by that, I pivot on my heels and walk briskly up the hill in the direction of the castle gardens.

“Where are you going?” Raff calls to my back.

“To work,” I reply, my fingers curling into fists. I hope he doesn’t try to stop me.

“Suit yourself, then.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I will.” I risk a glance over my shoulder.

A blade of grass between his lips, Raff throws himself backward onto a bed of wildflowers, and Spark scrambles onto his chest and chatters in his smiling face. The Prince of Fire is sweet to his mischievous mire fox.

Entering the garden, I find Magret weeding a patch of Swiss chard.

“How was your walk?” she inquires, her antlers quivering with interest as they incline toward me.

“Good. Raff’s the opposite of his brother, which is to say, he’s very charming. But, weirdly, it felt like he was checking me out for some reason. Testing me maybe.”

“Perhaps he wishes to take you as a bed companion.” She giggles into a dirt-covered palm.

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. Look, at all this, Magret,” I say, splaying my hands at the vegetables spilling everywhere. “Do you notice the crazy amounts of food lying around nearly rotting? Your kitchen staff probably can’t cook it fast enough.”

She nods. “Yes, we cannot possibly eat it all.”

“Food waste is a disgrace.”

“No. We turn what we can’t use into compost. It benefits the soil and makes it richer.”

“Raff told me about the mothers and babies out there in the forest, starving. How can you live with that?” I say, my voice rising as I fling around to face the shimmering castle and start marching away.

“Lara, wait…”

Ignoring her, I stalk to the mud-brick hut where the gardening equipment is kept and ferret around until I find what I need.

I return to the garden with a wicker basket that can be worn like a backpack. As I fill it with vegetables—carrots, beets, potatoes, and kale, Magret watches, silent and frowning.

Finally, she asks, “I’m not sure I want to hear your answer, but I must ask. What exactly are you doing?”

“I’m taking these to the moss elves. I just can’t bear the thought of them hungry, and I’m going to need your help, Magret.”

“I cannot… If I assisted, I could be banished. I—”

“All I’m asking is that you keep quiet about this. It’s not forbidden for me to aid the elves. Your laws don’t include me. Please? Think of the tiny babies.”

Resolution sets over her face. “Yes, I will keep your secret,” she says, cutting heads of a purple broccoli with swift slices before pitching them into my basket.

“I will find a way to distract the guards so that you aren’t seen and—”

“No need. I’m going to try and go through the mage’s house. You never know, she may want to help the moss elves.”

“The prince told you of the mage’s exit? That boy has always loved trouble. Were you a warrior back in the human world?”

I snort. “Far from it. But I never choose the easy way forward. And I’ve never walked past a hungry person without giving them something.”

“You are brave, then. And if you manage to get past the mage, you must follow the pathway that begins at her house, but do not go far into the forest. Leave the food at the red willow tree and return.”

“How will I find the tree?”

“Stay on the path and you cannot miss it. You’re not the first to do this. The elves know of the leaving place. Fae who have helped them before are now in exile, and I don’t know what will happen to you if you’re discovered.”

“It can’t be any worse than what the queen and Ever have planned. At least I might be able to do some good before they do something horrible to me.”

Ten minutes later, I’ve quenched my thirst with half a jug of water, strapped the heavy basket to my back, and I’m ready to go.

Magret walks me through the garden gate into the bustling city streets. So she appears in charge, she walks a few paces in front.

I bow my head and try not to make eye contact with fae traders who run the market stalls—their bodies a fascinating mix of fur and feathers in a rainbow of colors and textures. A heady smell infuses the air, so similar to coffee, it makes my mouth water.

Finally, we arrive at an unusual dwelling tucked into the farthest corner of the town. Covered in jutting wands of dark crystal as big as railway sleepers, it grows like a geode from the black city walls. It seems hardly big enough to house a donkey let alone a High Mage fae. A vaguely threatening energy pulses around its perimeter, giving me pause. But I remind myself, behind the house is the forest. And in the forest are hungry moss elves.

“I cannot enter with you,” says Magret. “Please be mindful of what you say to the High Mage. And don’t stay long in the forest.”

“I know. Leave the food and run.”

She gives me a worried smile and turns on her heels. Before facing the house, I wait until the tips of Magret’s antlers have disappeared from view.

Then I turn.

The door before me is blindingly white and emblazoned with the same bronze six-pointed star that decorates the entrance to the Emerald Castle, only a much smaller version.

With a trembling hand, I reach for a door knocker shaped like a huge spider and slam it against the white surface.

Once. Twice.

No answer.

My hand twists a knob made from a rough gold nugget, and I push the door open before I can change my mind. I hope this mage person is friendly.

The antechamber I enter has a soaring stained-glass ceiling that pours colored light into the ballroom-sized space. No way the house looked this big from the outside.

I spin on my heels, staring up at the kaleidoscopic scenes playing out in the glass above—a wild hunt, boars pinned with spears, chaotic battles, and depraved feasts. Beyond the light, five dark alcoves leading to who-knows-where line the edges of the room.

“Hello?” I say, still looking up and twirling around. And around and around. I can’t seem to stop.

From one of the archways comes a chiming voice. “Welcome, Lara. We meet again,” it says.

Those words halt my spinning.

“I heard you had arrived days ago, and I’ve been waiting patiently to see you.”

“Sorry? I don’t think we’ve met before…” My voice trails off as a tall shape materializes out of the shadows, white and shining and as beautiful and sterile as unpainted porcelain.

It’s the bachelorette—Ether. The one who hid in the alleyway, pretending to be injured. The one who sent me through the portal into Faery.

Dread settles in my stomach at the same time as a spark of hope ignites in my chest.

If Ether is the mage who dumped me here, then surely, she can return me home.

Rushing toward her, I roll my ankle and tumble to my knees, no doubt confirming my bungling human frailty.

She laughs and glides to land in front of me. “There’s no need for a dramatic curtsy. We are old friends.” She lifts her hand, and I’m slowly raised into the air and placed gently on my feet.

I try to look cool about being levitated like I’m part of a magic show, but my trembling hands betray me.

“We’re not friends,” I say. “You threw me into this place and left me unconscious in the middle of nowhere. Why the hell did you do that?”

“Everything happens for a reason, does it not? Next time I see you, human Lara, I may tell you a story that will interest you. Then again, perhaps I won’t.”

“Ether, please. I’m begging you. My Aunt, my cousin, they must think I’m dead. Please take me back or at least let me get word to them somehow.”

Bottomless black pools stare into my eyes as her cool fingers tap my cheek. “Be calm, child. I have left them a note in your handwriting imbued with a little glamor. All who know you believe you are traveling. They think you’ve lost your mind. But they do not think you are dead.”

“What?” Tears leak from my eyes and drip off my chin, twin splatters of sorrow on the marble floor.

In a swirl of silver, Ether drops to her knees, a finger swiping the floor then skimming her bloodless lips. Her lids lower and she sighs. “Mmm. Sadness has always been my favorite flavor.”

I have nothing to say to that.

“You would like safe passage to the forest, yes?”

“How do you know?”

“You stand so eager before me with food spilling from your basket and determined to do good. Your entire life is engraved upon your mortal face. If I were to offer to send you home now, but told you a moss elf youngster would die tonight without the food you bring, who would you choose to save? The elf or yourself?”

Sweat beads my brow. My mouth falls open, and I pant harsh breaths, the stark walls closing in on me as my head falls back, and I look up.

What do I do?

Home.

Or the forest.

The elves.

Or me?

In a burst of crimson, purple, and green, a flock of tiny birds appears, eddying through the air. They glide and land on Ether, covering her white, cotton-candy hair and the flowing sleeves of her silver gown.

“Choose.” Her voice shakes the foundations beneath my feet.

I draw a long breath. “The elves. I want to go to the forest.”

A thin smile slides over her face, black eyes glittering. “Then I grant you safe passage, human, and safe return. Go as far as the red willow. Next time I see you, I may even tell you the story you long to hear. In the meantime, help our little moss children and come back to the prince as fast as you can.”

“I will,” I say as she guides me through a domed doorway and out into biting fresh air and a riot of green.

The Emerald forest.

Wait. Which prince?

When I turn to ask what she meant, there’s only a thin wooden door hidden behind winding tree roots and leaves of dark ivy. No silver mage. No Ether.

She must have been talking about my soon-to-happen execution. She meant, hurry human; help the elves and return as quickly as you can to die by Prince Ever’s hand.

A dappled path lies before me, pretty patterns beckoning me forward. Shouldering the weighty basket, I take a deep breath and begin to walk through the trees.

When I traveled with Ever, all was quiet and somber. This is the opposite. This place doesn’t fear me as Ithalah Forest did him. Birds chirp and sing. Bushes rustle with the movements of tiny creatures. Trees whisper secrets to each other. The air itself seems soft and welcoming. I feel safe.

After a time, the path winds downward, then a tunnel of trees opens into a small clearing with a brook tinkling beside a scarlet-colored willow. The bright red of its trunk, slender branches, and leaves is startling.

I place the basket on the tree’s rusty roots, sit on a damp log on the other side of the glade, and wait.

Five minutes pass, and nothing happens.

Another five and I begin to sing the first thing that springs to mind, an old Americana lullaby about cotton and babies who won’t go to sleep. I get lost in its rhythm, and the forest hushes and listens, too.

The song comes to an end, and as I start at the beginning of the first verse again, three elves creep from behind the willow toward the basket, two males and one female, all wretchedly skinny. I offer them a wave and keep singing.

Vegetables disappear one by one, passed along a chain toward elves hiding in the safety of green foliage.

Their bodies seemingly wrought from the forest itself, they’re no bigger than my forearm. They wear bark-colored tunics, have skin of soft moss, and black hair that tangles around pointed ears and sweet-curling horns.

They’re the most adorable creatures I’ve ever seen. Heart soaring, I stop singing and quietly admire them.

In the silence, the elves turn and look at me for the first time, their eyes bright beams of gold.

“Hello,” I say. “Take the basket. I’ll return tomorrow with more.”

The female bows and ducks behind the tree, returning a moment later with a squalling infant held tightly to her chest. I hold my breath as she edges forward. A group of elves joins the procession.

When she stops not far from my log, she holds the crying baby up for inspection. It mewls like a kitten.

I lean down and peer at tiny rose-petal lips. “A girl?” I ask.

Ten elves nod.

“Oh, she’s beautiful.”

The mother’s nodding becomes more vigorous as she waves her hand at my throat.

“The song. You’d like to hear it again?”

More nods, this time, accompanied by noises of encouragement.

I sing.

The elves smile.

The tiny baby quiets and listens.

Music never ceases to amaze me—how it calms. Brings joy. And even has the power to unite people.

When I finish the song, I rise and dust myself off. “As I said, I’ll try to come again tomorrow. At the same time if possible. It was lovely to meet you all, especially your baby. I hope the food helps.”

Giving me low bows and radiant smiles, they drag the basket away and disappear, merging with the browns and greens of the forest.

Warmth swells in my chest as I picture the moss elves’ feast tonight, their bellies full to bursting.

Well, I think my first attempt at rebellion against the Court of Five was a success. But maybe I shouldn’t congratulate myself just yet.

I haven’t made it back to the safety of the gardens.